


Head Over Heels

by ungodlyi



Series: the corrupted, the damned and the beautiful. [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Lore - Fandom, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Aphrodite - Freeform, Ares - Freeform, Broken Promises, Character Study, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Goddesses, Gods, Heartbreak, Hephaestus - Freeform, Infidelity, Love, Mount Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Multi, Percy Jackson References, Rick Riordan Demigod Universe | Riordanverse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ungodlyi/pseuds/ungodlyi
Summary: Love.A stupid thing really, and yet her heart yearned for it.( the deity of love they called her. )
Relationships: Aphrodite/Ares, Aphrodite/Ares (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Aphrodite/Hephaestus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: the corrupted, the damned and the beautiful. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167677
Kudos: 16
Collections: Greek Mythology





	1. Chapter 1

Love.

A stupid thing really, and yet her heart yearned for it.

_ ( the deity of love they called her. ) _


	2. disclaimer

A warning that this written piece is told through the eyes of the female ‘protagonist’, thus some details of the piece will reflect her thoughts and behaviour. This piece centres around the toxic relationship between two characters and how they are enabling each to continuously live in the toxic environment to the point where they both are deteriorating.

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⠀

There are hints/mentions/implications of illicit affairs, substance abuse and romanisation of toxic relationships from the character’s point of view. Centred around the Greek Mythical world. The main character is Aphrodite, with minor appearances of Ares and Hephaestus.  ⠀

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However, please note that the author does not condone the romanticisation of any relationship similar to the one in this piece, and that it was written purely for entertainment purposes.

⠀

⠀

If you are easily triggered, or find some of these topics uncomfortable then please refrain from reading.

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⠀

Thank you.


	3. from aphrodite

DEDICATED TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE.

THE MAN WHOSE LOVE WAS SO STRONG AND UNYIELDING THAT HE FORGOT THAT EVEN IMMORTAL DEITIES LIKE US STILL NEED TO BE CRADLED AND HELD WITH TENDER CARE.

THE MAN BORN FROM WAR WHO SHOWED ME THAT THE FORGES WERE NO PLACE FOR A WOMAN SUCH AS I. 

THE MAN WHO WAS KEPT SECRET UNTIL THE BRUISES BECAME APPARENT.

  
  
  
  
  


_ ( i am unhealable now. ) _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Aphrodite x


	4. one touch is all it takes.

**CHAPTER ONE**

one touch is all it takes.

love.

it was a word that left a bitter taste on the tongue, and an empty hole waiting to be filled.

funny how a single word could feel like a ton of bricks resting on the shoulders.

though she would take her wishes to her grave, she could not afford to lose herself now. it was hard to enjoy the bigger things in life, when she was constantly starving herself of any joy she could ever have. so, for now, she was content in safely tucking it under her charismatic façade.

a woman never cries after all . . .

_ ( you don’t know what love is, he told her on the night of their wedding. stated it as if it was a casual conversation between husband and wife. ) _

. . .

he was an artist. the most talented artist she had ever met.

oh, the art he created.

_ ( a breathless sigh ) _

she could almost laugh at the irony of the sentence, the god of war creating? was she sure she was talking about the same god? the one whose calloused hands was solely responsible for the blooded paint that stained the earth as a reminder of pain? that god?

_ ( wasn’t he so dreamy? ) _

yes, yes she was.

his art was so magnificent, so enrapturing, so… excruciating raw that she never realised how wrong it was.

she never realised that purple didn’t mean love. that red didn’t equate to pleasure. that torn edges did not mean forever. that paintings did not return to a blank slate when cleansed with salty tears.

but he was a compelling force.

_ ( he was so strong.) _

almost like an enthralling lullaby sung by sirens to lure in naïve sailors—pulling her in, leaving her in a wondered daze. it was inevitable to fall for a man whose smile promised the world. a wicked smile, ever-so charming, promising her to take away from the dull captivity of her abductor. she learnt to despise the scent of the forges and embraced the scent of fresh blood and smoke residue left behind bullets.

_ ( in other words, the goddess of love… was… well? in love. ) _

. . .

the goddess of love was once naïve.

a hopeful young woman who was married off too soon because the king deemed her simply too gorgeous to continue living as a maiden. and as the myth had told, she was tied to a man who she never loved, and a man who would never love her back.

_ ( you don’t know what love is. he told her one night. ) _

then she met a man, a god who showed the beauty of war, who showed her that she was something more than a pretty face. showed her what love could be if she indulged him. 

she saw the faces of battered soldiers who stood proudly at their front, readily themselves for another tedious battle. their flame of hope lit by the love they had for their country, for their families, for their lover, for themselves. she listened very carefully to the stories of every fallen soldier told from the tears rapidly falling from the surviving comrades. each tear screaming for the return of their… brother. she tasted what true passion was for the first time when she watched each survivor crawl on their bruised knees until they won. they refused to give up.

_ ( blood and guns had never been so beautiful before.) _


	5. the four seasons of hell

**CHAPTER TWO**

the four seasons of hell.

  
  


when she was him, it was like time stopped. or… perhaps it went by faster.

the winter, when the wind was the harshest and she was bitten by the bitter rage of the frosted snow, was when it all began.

the winter . . . was what she thought of him.

she thought of the warmth he welcomed as he placed a mug of hot milo into her trembling hands, the marshmallows were a nice touch. they bobbled in the mug like little buoys floating at sea / that / very same day you met him. he was the northern lights simmering in the sky as if he owned it, as if he owned her, freezing her in her place to be nothing but in awe of his beauty. he consumed her every thought and every whim. 

and the others, green with jealousy, just had to ask . . . what about / him /? what about her husband? 

_ ( no response. ) _

_ ( she didn’t have one.) _

winter’s nothing more than a simple delight. a blanket to throw over all the nightmares and forget as the sun rides out to defend. it is the snow that coats the grass in a never ending sea of white that just shields her away from the bad.

it covered the bruises, the yellowish red now fading to match the sickly white of snow. it covered the blood-shot eyes with decor of transparent icicles, forcing her to turn a blind eye to the true nature behind winter.

the god of war had indulged and embraced the period of death that followed the trail of purity and safety.

_ ( white was no longer associated with the light. it was too blinding. ) _

his hand print tarnished her skin, splotches of brown coating her smooth skin with the silent vow of forever.

_ ( immortality for all of eternity. ) _

winter was nothing more than a warning for what was yet to come, however, the worst was not here yet and when winter passed, the couple had welcomed spring and the promise of falling in love was almost locked into place.

_ ( they were unstoppable. ) _

. . .

  
  


the touch of death resides in the pad of his finger; and yet when soft skin grazes her lip, flowers bloom and spring arrives . . .

_ ( and she had forgotten about the pain she had carried during winter ) _

being with him was a blessing wrapped with the sharp edges of a budding curse.

his presence was like the promise of spring.

it promised her a life outside her loveless marriage. a love that would always burn bright. a new beginning where she could finally see herself playing husband and wife. a devotion to them and only them. and the goddess had clung onto that.

and despite the fact that she preferred to focus on all the happiness he bought, she would never forget the lesson that came with it.

spring taught her to be cautious. flowers in bloom only meant that she was more susceptible to becoming mortal.

_ ( bless you. ) _

but when spring was brought to its last dying breath, taking her perishable thoughts with it, came summer... and in the passenger seat, the scorching burn that would have remained imprinted forever.

. . .

  
  


she was addicted to him.

if the war god was the biting sensation of winter, and his presence was the welcoming promise of spring then his kisses were the euphoric feeling that came after drowning in too many shots amidst the summer heat of the moshpit.

_ ( i’ll make you forget about him. the war god had promised as his teeth grazed her neck. ) _

when he kissed her. it was a burning fire with the potential to bring down forests.

_ ( you’re back. the bored, unamused smile from her husband as she entered their room.) _

it was hot. sloppy. wet.

it was passionate. it was anger. it was.. everything she wished could be.

_ ( you’ve changed. he told her. the smell of melted metal lingered in the air. a twitch of disgust. ) _

kisses like his were like the burst of adrenaline that shot up her spine when she tilted her head back to feel the bitter alcohol burning a path from her throat. it reminded her of the days where she spent curled up in her bed, wondering why it felt so good to be in so much pain.

_ ( it seems the mortals are suffering from your… activities . i believe they are suffering from heartbreak, at least that’s what they are calling it now. are you familiar with it… dear?) _

it was the glare of the raging sun on a hot summer's day that had enough pent up anger to throw a fit and watch as the earth razed in ashes and smoke. the kind of kisses that left her begging her stubborn feet to move and run for the hills . . .

he became the reason she finally understood the struggles of overcoming addiction—the delicious scent of blood, from bringing the head of the enemy, clung to his armour and she found herself listening more and more to that small voice telling her to surrender to that darkness.

. . . 

  
  


loving him was as easy as breathing.

it was as easy as buying flowers from a nearby florist, or baking chocolates without a recipe or running into the pile of sunset leaves in autumn.

it was sweet. it was tender. it was natural.

and it was as easy as accepting death.

falling for him was like swimming in a never ending ocean that would send her spluttering over the relentless waves sent by poseidon to consume her.

falling for him was like seeing the wind pick up the withering leaves and demanding them to perform the most dazzling waltz she had ever seen.

and loving ares was like waking up from a nightmare, only to be comforted by the arms of home and soft whispers of assurance only to have that safety net and her nightmares confirmed.

loving him was like reaching the top of a mountain and seeing the world from different feet.

_ ( nothing was impossible. ) _

and once the traces of withering yellow, red and orange had been replaced by the chilling comforts of white . . . had the goddess truly known she was endangered.

_ ( the process had started again and she was consumed in a love that mortals now feared. ) _


	6. promise you'll remember me.

**CHAPTER THREE**

promise you’ll remember me.

her love used to be given so graciously. 

_ ( mortals had not even invented a term for heartbreak just yet ) _

there was a certain tenderness to the way she used to handle it.

_ ( she used to care.) _

and then… he came in all his brashness, stumbling in a whirling hurricane and crushing everything in his path. the destruction that he had created in his hasty attempts to pull her into a tender and needy kiss, a kiss that left her in a breathless, longing trance. just so that when she was with / him/ and they are not together anymore, the taste of him will still linger on her swollen lips.

_ ( she could still feel the ghost grip of his fingers wrapped around her wrist.) _

she was . . .

absolutely brutal and relentless.

both physically and spiritually gorgeous.

and yet, she was hideous.

you want to talk about fraud? she took the crown.

the woman who once believed that love was beautiful, now called bullshit.

she would not stop until she got what she wanted.  _ ( the word stop does not have meaning, at least not anymore. he made sure of that. ) _

she was a woman with a silver tongue encased in a red cage. _ ( they feared her now. ) _

she wante- no, she demanded respect.  _ ( those who didn’t ended up with an unfortunate case of heartbreak. a terrible disease that ensnared itself around the heart, thorns crushing the heart until its last beat. ) _

devious.

cutthroat.

emotionally detached.

( the world was not made to be seen in black and white. the world was her canvas and she would bend everyone to her will.)

. . .

there was no sound. 

( lie )

there was no heart tugging, soul sucking, jaw clenching moment.

( lie again )

there was no muffled cry. no broken sob. no contortion of a freshly glistened face.

( always telling lies, wasn’t she exhausted? )

it just was. she just / was /.

( perhaps that was the only truth that has ever graced those perfectly shaped lips )

. . .

the hurricane, known as ares, had come to pass.

_ ( he broke her. )  _

their illicit love had ended.

_ ( he broke her. )  _

she was finally free.

_ ( he broke her. ) _

she was / the / goddess of love.

_ ( i feel sorry for you aphrodite ) _

the personification of beauty.

_ ( beautiful with an ugly heart. how utterly ironic? ) _

the mother of doves, a harbinger of hope.

_ ( her doves only promised heartbreak nowadays.) _

she didn’t just create love. or give love.

_ ( our marriage has only brought us pain and suffering. end it now. ) _

she was love.

_ ( and they / still / told her that she didn’t know what love was. ) _

. . .

you wouldn’t recognise her now. 

_ ( her words plagued the minds of the naïve, embedding themselves deeply within the unconscious mind. it sought out the insecure, the weak minded, and fed it more poison until they had succumbed to it. ) _

no one would.

love’s hunger, her vengeance, her thirst to feel.

to just feel something other than rage and pain.

was all thanks… to him.

he made her like this.

and he made sure that love became a double-edged sword he would wield into battle, made her pilant enough to be the only who would control her. he ensured that love became a game where checkmate was when the knight had cornered the king, a role he assumed for himself. _ ( the knight was no longer a symbol of safety. ) _ he was the one who established the role that love would soon come to play on the battlefield, gaining the upper hand on a raging war against those who crossed them.

  
  


and what could she say?

all is fair in love and war after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ THE END ]**


End file.
